


white lily

by auroradxauria



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23715598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroradxauria/pseuds/auroradxauria
Summary: He continued to scroll until he reached the end of the page and, at that point, his eyes opened wide for a surprise: the photo of Iwaizumi Hajime stood on the white background and Oikawa could not help but smile."Well hello…" The boy glanced at the green eyes, the frowny expression, the spiky hair and the muscles of the arms, and what muscles, which could be seen from under the t-shirt "…Iwaizumi Hajime"Model AU//Iwaoi//Daisuga and Kuroken because I L O V E these idiots//
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...hi! This is not just the first time writing a mature-content-fanfiction but also the first time writing a fanfiction in English...I'm Italian and I wanted to challenge myself in translating my work in English.  
> I'm sorry for any mistakes and, please, let me know if there something that's really wrong about grammar or syntax.  
> I really hope you'll enjoy this first chapter!  
> Please, let me know what you think <3

_Click_

The light was white and dazzling in front of his eyes, there was nothing outside the light that astonished his sight. He leaned his head slightly and curled his lips, a murmur of approval came to his ears from behind the spotlight.

_Click_

"Very good, Oikawa. I like that expression very much."

_Click_

The boy accosted his face to one of the flowers that had been placed around him and, slowly, put his lips on one of the white petals, absorbing the sweet and gentle scent. A lily. Oikawa closed his eyes, letting himself be lulled by the light fragrance of the flower; the lily had been one of his favourite flowers since he was a child and, now adult, reminded him of the lazy afternoons spent in the garden of his adolescence. Click The lily was an elegant, gentle, sunny, pure flower. Sugawara had to know.

The light went out, leaving Oikawa in momentary blindness. He felt delicate hands resting a blanket on his shoulders, taking him by the hand, helping him to get up and bring him closer to the photographer who, as often happened, was already checking and adjusting the photos.

"Very well Oikawa, I liked the poses of today".

Daichi gave him a slight pat on the shoulder and offered a chair. Oikawa lightly blinked, adjusting his eyes to the new and softer light, focusing on the photographer’s face.

"Why don’t you sit down?" Sugawara dusted the chair with his own hand and handed him a plastic glass, with a metal straw, full of cold coffee. Tooru took a sip, smiling at the sweet and caramelized taste of the drink.

"Thank you, Suga" he relaxed on his chair, leaning his arms to the armrests and crossing his legs "I really liked the choice of today’s flowers." Suga smiled, surrounding his shoulders with his arm.

"Would you like to see the photos?" Daichi gave him the computer as if it was a baby and Oikawa couldn’t help but giggle. Sugawara lowered to the height of the model’s shoulders to be able to better observe the photos.

"Today you really outdid Daichi. the blond looked up at the photographer and Oikawa could feel the sweet eyes of the first and the red cheeks of the second. The photos were really beautiful, _he_ was really beautiful: the embroidery of the blue, transparent, bathrobe recalled the white flowers that had been arranged around, behind, above him that, in turn, highlighted the white and soft skin of the model; there was also a close-up on the face, on the shimmering lips, on the eyelids, on which a light layer of silver makeup had been applied, and on the hair in which lilies had been inserted.

"Photographer-chan, this time you really outdid yourself!" Oikawa handed him the computer and clapped slightly, like a joyful child. Daichi, embarrassed, chuckled, more for the nickname than for the compliment.

"I have done nothing extraordinary… most of the work was done by Suga and Akaashi-san," the two exchanged another quick and shy smile and Oikawa couldn’t help but feel a momentary but painful twinge of jealousy. "Oikawa-san". the three turned, called by the voice, or whisper, of the newcomer.

Kenma was a small, thin boy, who always walked while looking at his feet and spoke little but, despite that, was one of the most requested models by various advertising companies; Oikawa had not taken long to understand why: many photographers were attracted by his golden and magnetic eyes, feline face, elegant and refined hands.

"How’s work going? Stressful as usual, eh?" Oikawa leaned out and ruffled the blond and dyed hair of the youngest. Kenma barely looked up from his cell phone and nodded, remaining silent, without giving any sign of wanting to start a conversation about _how exhausting it was to be paid to be photographed_. Tooru shooked his head, amused, knowing that Kenma was perfectly right, and he could not help but feel great affection for the blond. Kozume was right, _but…_

The Chief had turned his back when the two arrived, looking at the city that stretched out beyond the window. He did not turn to welcome them, nor when he dismissed Kenma with a cold nod. The blond threw a stealthy look, Oikawa thought he had heard the boy whisper a weak _"I’m sorry"_ , before turning around and closing the door behind him. The Chief did not turn around, he stood and looked out the window, in silence. Oikawa hated silence, hated being able to hear the ticking of the expensive watch on the wrist of the man and the crazy and irregular beats of his heart in the ears.

"Today is a beautiful day" the hoarse voice of the man in front of him broke the silence, suddenly, making the boy jump.

"Mr. Kato is waiting for you" and, finally, the Chief turned around: he was a thin man, exaggeratedly tall, almost disproportionate, with a sharp turn and two magnetic eyes, dark...

"I saw today’s photos" the man grinned, getting closer to the younger "They are really beautiful, don’t you think?" and he took Oikaw's chin between his fingers and put his thumb on his lower lip gently. Oikawa felt nauseated, furious, he wanted to get away from the room, the man, the building and never come back.

"It would be a shame to see you disappear from the most prestigious fashion magazines, don’t you think?" The Chief’s thumb slipped into the model’s mouth, coming in contact with the youngest’s soft, warm tongue. Oikawa wanted to cry and, instead, closed his eyes, bent slightly his head and caressed the man’s thumb with his tongue, wetting it with his saliva.

"That’s a good boy"

"Iwaizumi-san!" Nishinoya peeped from behind the door, smiling and energetic

"The boss wants you in his office!" he shouted at him and then disappeared, fast as he appeared. Iwaizumi heard him call Asahi and drop something, getting a telling-off from some other colleague.

Hajime shooked his head, got up and stretched out; he was grateful to have some funny workmates, good at their job, maybe a bit noisy, _a bit too noisy_ , but that made every day of work bearable. He left his office, taking care not to clash with a late and fatigued Bokuto, and headed to the chief’s desk.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Iwaizumi remained on the doorstep of the main office, the one reserved to the chief, waiting for the latter’s consent to enter.

"Ah, Iwaizumi. Yes, I wanted to talk to you about something… Sit down, too" the boy sat down on the other side of the desk, looking at the folder that the boss was handing him "I wanted to suggest an interview with a model. Don’t make that face, let me finish" the man smiled at the raised eyebrow and the doubtful expression of the youngest.

"It’s Oikawa Tooru. You probably don’t know who he is because you always work and never unplug your face from your computer"

_I wonder whose fault it is_.

"He is a model that is capturing the attention of many agencies here in Japan and internationally. Interviewing him could bring you many benefits, a promotion maybe. How about that?" Iwaizumi knew that was not a question he could answer negatively, but he tried to expose his disappointment.

"Chief, you know I much prefer to deal with _different_ cases" Hajime liked to deal with murders, crimes related to the corruption of prominent politicians and incidents of violence associated with xenophobic and homophobic movements. He was not interested in sitting in a coffee shop and asking two or three questions to a guy full of himself, that had no trouble getting to the end of the month, that every night fell asleep in a bed with silk sheets and dressed clothes whose price reached three hundred million yen (*about three thousand euros) per piece. The man chuckled, conscious of thoughts that were passing through the mind of the youngest.

"I know very well, Iwaizumi."

"Then why me?"

"Because, simply, you are the best" Iwaizumi knew that the boss said the same thing to all his employees but the look on the face of the man was so genuine that the boy could not help but blush.

"Okay." Hajime surrendered and grabbed the folder that had been placed in front of him a few minutes before.

"The agency has informed us that you will meet tomorrow morning at around ten o'clock. The address is already inside the folder" the boy opened it, quickly browsing the pages inside.

"There’s no information about his life before you become a model...why's that?" Iwaizumi did not hear the boss’s answer; his gaze was examining the photos that had been inserted between the sheets: the boy had two big, magnetic, hazel eyes, pink and full lips, a slender and sharp face, but without edges, and a mass of waved hair but neat, perfect.

_He was really beautiful._

Hajime looked up at the face of the chief who was looking at him amused, a grin printed on his face.

"All right, Iwaizumi?" he felt his ears boiling and his face blushing. He suddenly stood up saying that yes, _everything was fine_ ; he made a quick bow and hurried out of the office.

He needed a cigarette.

The water was warm and pleasant, the vanilla scent of the bath salts mixed with steam, soaking the room with a pleasant aroma.

Mr. Kato had recently left Oikawa with an abhorrent sensation in his chest, his dirty face and his hair kneaded with rancid cum. The boy had rushed into the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom and had thrown himself into the tub trying to wash away that unpleasant feeling, the sperm and mask with the water of the tub his tears.

_Why didn’t he leave?_

Oikawa snorted, knowing that he did not have the answer to that question which appeared so naive and dipped completely in the water, letting it plug his ears.

Under the water, everything was all so still, calm, pleasant, lazy. If he could, he would have remained in that dimension for eternity, avoiding reality but an incessant and annoying knock forced him to emerge and to get out of the tub.

"Oikawa! Open the door!" The boy quickly put on his slippers, a bathrobe and, with his hair still dripping, headed for the door.

"Yes, yes, I am coming. How annoying you are…" as soon as he unlocked the lock the door opened wide, revealing a dark-haired boy with a constant grin printed on his face "…Kuroo."

"Don’t make that face, I know you’re glad to see me" he paused "Are you okay?" Kuroo had a sweeter tone, almost worried.

Oikawa grinned "Are you worried about me?"

"Oh shut it" Kuroo pushed Oikawa to the side, entering the room and throwing himself on the bed.

Tooru shook his head, trying to hide the smile that bent his lips. He was really happy that Kuroo was there with him. The two had been classmates since childhood and, almost as a joke, they had decided to go to the audition to become models together; although Kuroo, in a nutshell, was a dickhead, Oikawa knew that, without him, he would not have faced half the obstacles that had arisen before.

"Who was it this time?" Tooru could not see the expression of his friend but his tone was...almost _sad_

"Mr. Kato"

"Don’t call that shit sir" Kuroo turned around, looking at the brownish in the eye "Are you sure you’re okay?"

"Of course, it takes a lot more than that to knock out Oikawa Tooru." they both knew he was lying but Kuroo did not have time to argue with that nonsense that his cell phone rang and, as soon as he read the sender, his eyes lit up.

"It's Kenma!!"

"Kuroo you have no hope with him, you are at a level too low for-". Oikawa did not have time to finish the sentence that was hit in the face by a pillow thrown by his friend.

"He says that tomorrow you have an interview with a certain Hajime Iwaizumi" Oikawa thought that Kenma could very well write directly to him but did not say anything and limited to curl his lips in an amused smile.

Kuroo swiftly typed an answer, not knowing the stupid and _already in love_ expression he was attached to his face, and then passed the phone to his friend. Oikawa clicked the link and quickly read the headlines of various articles written by the journalist.

_Xenophobic criminal group reaps another victim. Body found on the beach by a group of children. A homosexual girl reports the attack immediately Friday, April 17._

Oikawa thought that the journalist in question was probably forced by his boss to interview him. He felt a little guilty.

He continued to scroll until he reached the end of the page and, at that point, his eyes opened wide for a surprise: the photo of Iwaizumi Hajime stood on the white background and Oikawa could not help but smile.

"Well hello…" The boy glanced at the green eyes, the frowny expression, the spiky hair and the muscles of the arms, _and what muscles_ , which could be seen from under the t-shirt "…Iwaizumi Hajime"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello!  
> First of all, thank you for the comments and the kudos you guys left me in the last chapter!  
> I had a lot of trouble with the translation of this chapter and I'm not sure if I have done a nice job...  
> Thank you again for the reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have reached this point you deserve some cookies and a hug lmao.  
> So, talking about this chapter, we have a fluffy Iwaizumi who loves Hozier and is too pure for this world and an Oikawa who is probably horny 24/7.  
> Have mercy for that ugly semi-smutty thing I've written :(  
> On the next character we'll have:  
> 1) the photoshoot  
> 2)DAICHI, KUROO AND IWAIZUMI!! + OIKAWA AND SUGA!!  
> 3) lewd things  
> I'm not ready

Iwaizumi was late.

_Shit._

If Oikawa was an extremely punctual person, and Hajime prayed that he wasn’t, he would surely complain to his superior, boss, or, more generally, someone who would report Iwaizumi’s unprofessional behaviour to his chief, and, at that point, goodbye promotion.

When he arrived in front of the bar set for the appointment it was already half-past ten.

He looked around, searching for the brown-haired guy, while he tried to regulate his breath and keep under control the incessant shaking of his hands.

Hajime began to fear that the model had already left; he was checking his phone to see if there were any messages or, worse, lost calls by the boss when he heard the door open behind him, the ringing of a bell and a voice calling him.

Oikawa Tooru was leaning against the wooden doorpost of the bar and was smiling at him.

_Was he smiling at him?_

Iwaizumi was tempted to turn to see if there was anyone else.

"Iwa-chan, do you want to stay there or do you prefer coming inside?" Tooru slightly bent his head, giving a glance at Hajime's figure.

_Iwa-chan?_

"Do you mind if I call you that?" Iwaizumi blushed, surprised that the other had been able to read what he was thinking, and shook his head slightly, approaching the entrance.

The room was decidedly snobby but, Iwaizumi admitted it with difficulty, extremely welcoming: the cream-coloured walls reflected natural light, gently, creating a relaxed atmosphere; the tables had been arranged in two rows, one adjacent to the large windows facing the street and the other opposite to the first, resulting parallel to the wall. On the walls were secured numerous shelves that had been filled with plants and books in foreign languages and several lights and bulbs hung from the ceiling so as, at least that was Iwaizumi thought, to give a more rustic look to the place.

Hajime noted, pleasantly surprised, a familiar tune in the background that he could not help but reproduce by gently humming

_Babe, there's something tragic about you_

_Something so magic about you_

"Do you like this song?" Oikawa was leading him to the table he had occupied while waiting.

_Babe, there's something wretched about this_

_Something so precious about this_

"Mh, yes" arrived at the back of the room the model let himself slide on one of the two chairs arranged on the sides of the table.

Hajime imitated him, sitting on the other side of the table, his hands still trembling.

_Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago_

"I like Hozier too" Iwaizumi looked up at the young man’s face, again surprised.

"Ah, yes" Iwaizumi stuttered, the chestnut chuckled.

"Well, yeah, Iwa-can’s right, I seem more like the kind of guy who only listens to the hottest songs, right?" Iwaizumi blushed, wondering how Oikawa had, again, read perfectly what he was thinking.

The journalist opened his mouth to say something, an excuse maybe? , but the model shook his head, giggling.

"Iwa-chan doesn’t have to worry. To tell the truth, before I started coming to this place I didn’t even know who Hozier was and I usually limited myself to the fifty most listened songs of the moment" Hajime send him a mean glance but the model smiled, not at all intimidated and probably amused by the reaction of the other.

"Are you ready to order?" a thin, shaky blonde girl pulled a notebook and a pink pencil out of her apron.

"Hello Ya-chan" the girl blushed to the tip of her ears, Hajime felt deep sympathy for her, and stuttered a timid greeting "Are you feeling better?"

"Ah yes, Oikawa-san. Thank you for consoling me the other day…."

Iwaizumi felt completely cut off from the conversation but he realized, however, that he did not mind being left out, he was rather shy with strangers; Hajime simply peek at the boy sitting in front of him: Oikawa excessively groomed himself, the clothes ironed and well-matched together, the wide brim hat leaning perfectly on the nape, without ruffling the hairstyle, the glasses leaning on the nose which him an almost intellectual air and the thin layer of lip gloss applied to pink lips.

_He was gorgeous._

_Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago_

"Oh-oh, I forgot to introduce you" Iwaizumi was brought back to reality at the exclamation of the model "Ya-chan I present you Iwa-can. Iwa-chan this is Yaichi Hitoka. She introduced me to Hozier and a lot of other nice artists"

"It's a pleasure to meet you" Hajime smiled and the girl whispered a shy and embarrassed hello.

"Oikawa-san, can I get you something to drink?" There was something in the embarrassment and anxiety of the girl that brought Iwaizumi to compare her to a helpless little puppy.

Someone had to protect her.

"I'll take a non-fat frappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate sauce, please, and Iwa-chan takes…."

"A black americano, please " when he finished writing, the girl made a small bow and fled quickly to another table.

"You like sweet things, uh? What are you, a kid?"Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, mocking Oikawa, doubting how someone could drink something that sweet and continue to consider it coffee.

"Iwa-chan lectures me when he's the one to order a black americano of his own free will" Hajime couldn’t help but smile.

Once his coffee and Oikawa's slop were served, Iwaizumi pulled a diary and ballpoint pen out the pocket of his jacket.

"Let’s get started, shall we?”

_I slithered here from Eden just to hide outside your door_

Oikawa had concluded that teasing Iwiazumi was fun.

"Iwa-chan has a girlfriend?" the brown-haired boy leaned towards the table, taking between his fingers the plastic straw to slowly mix the drink.

"Please, Oikawa. The question was why did you decide to do the model?" Tooru quickly passed his tongue on his lower lip, wetting it, peeking at the journalist’s eyes following the rapid movement.

"A boyfriend, then?" Iwaizumi blushed.

_Bingo._

"Oikawa-san, please-" The brownish shook his head, curling his lips in a grimace of disgust.

"No formality" the model assumed a wounded expression, theatrically resting the back of his hand on his forehead

_Dramatic._

Tooru sucked a sip of his drink, playing with the straw using his tongue.

"There isn't a particularly deep reason"Hajime let his gaze slip, _just for a second_ , on the pink lips of the model "my friend and I were bored, we decided to give it a try and we were lucky" the journalist, red in the face, raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"Is that it?"

"Yes, that's it"

"Do you like your job?"

"Iwa-chan has to ask me some less boring questions or, otherwise, I’ll be forced to report to his boss the unprofessional behaviour of his employee" Iwaizumi assumed a visibly irritated expression.

_Insolent. Spoiled. Snobby. Arrogant._

Oikawa moistened his lips again with his tongue, tilting his head and assuming a devious expression.

Iwaizumi squeezed his fists, trying not to allow his imagination to imagine what that tongue could do to his dick, those pretty pink lips wrapped around his rigid length, moistening his cock with his saliva…

_No, no, no, no._

"Iwa-chan, are you there?"

"Ah, yes" Tooru grinned, vaguely satisfied.

Hajime inhaled deeply, trying to kick out of his head the pleasant image of Oikawa Tooru begging Iwaizumi to fuck him.

_Okay, that’s enough._

"Are you working on something new?"

"Yes, I do. The official photographer of the company I work for, Daichi, has decided to start a new project" the brownish checked the time on his phone "we will start working around three o'clock this afternoon" 

"Can you give me some details?" Oikawa smiled

"Do you want to come and see it?"

"What do you mean?" Hajime must have had a very confused expression, his eyebrows excessively frowned and his eyes reduced to two slits, printed on his face, Oikawa burst out laughing.

_He was so exaggerated._

Hajime wanted to tell him to shut it out, that it wasn’t his fault if he made funny faces when he was puzzled or that it wasn’t funny; he didn’t: the words got stuck in his throat, refusing to go out, at the sight of the boy who was laughing, with eyes closed and a smile that seemed to brighten the whole room.

If up to that moment Iwaizumi had seen and talked with the model Oikawa, the snobby and arrogant Oikawa, illegally attractive and kind of fake Oikawa, Hajime had, at that instant, the impression of having glimpsed a completely new boy, more genuine, bright, irresistibly cute with his nose curled while laughing, and happy.

It took Tooru a short time to stop laughing, although a smile remained on his lips, and Iwaizumi found himself thinking that he would have liked to see him laugh a little more.

"Would you like to come and see how we work?"

"I don’t think your boss would like that"

"My boss doesn’t care much about how we work, he cares to see the material finished and ready for printing on this desk before Friday night"Oikawa uttered in a strange, almost disgusted way, the word _chief_ "And, by the way, today's photoshoot is taken at my house"

"At your house?" Iwaizumi frowned

"Since Daichi hates working at the agency, he says it's always too busy and messy, he always tries to find other places to work" it made sense, maybe.

"Iwa-chan didn’t write much for the article, did he? Who knows what his boss will say… he’ll probably be very disappointed"

Impertinent brat.

Hajime snorted, realizing that, unfortunately, the model was completely right: for as long as he had sat at that table with Oikawa, Iwaizumi hadn't written more than five lines.

"Okay, but I won’t stay there for more than half an hour"

Oikawa smiled.

Kuroo was standing, in silence, in front of the closed door of room 405; he read the message that shone on his cell phone screen.

_Can you come?_

Kenma loved to be left alone and spend time on his cell phone, he was not the type to send that kind of message without a particular reason.

Tetsurou imagined, he feared, why the other boy had called him.

He knocked and, on the other side of the door, he felt the sound of steps, light and cautious, approaching.

"Kuroo?" Kenma’s voice was reduced to a muffled whisper.

"Yes, it's me" the boy inhaled deeply, trying to calm his heart which was beating madly in his chest.

_Jesus Christ, you look like a middle school kid. Calm down, you moron._

The blond opened the door, leaving enough room to get inside the room.

In the room, there was a smell of sweat, of sex, of cum and Kuroo felt a sudden and unpleasant pain in the stomach as if someone had punched him.

Kenma looked paler than usual, his shoulders were so curved that Tetsurou thought he could break at any moment.

"What happened to you?" they both knew that it was a pointless and dumb question that neither of them would want to answer "If you don’t want to talk we can, well, be quiet"

Kuroo didn’t know if those were the right words to say, he didn’t know what to do or how to behave; Kenma was so different from Oikawa, with whom it was much easier to guess the right move to play, more taciturn and used to keep everything to himself.

Kozume smiled at him, a small, shy smile that warmed Tetsurou’s heart, and invited him to sit on the edge of the bed with him.

_Why didn’t they leave?_

The two remained silent for what to Kuroo felt like infinity, the arms brushing against each other and fingers so close that Tetsurou could feel the heat of Kenma's hand near his fingertips.

_Why didn’t they leave?_

They could live together, maybe happy, away from all that.

"I don’t have a place to go to" Kuroo thought it was a puff of wind coming from who knows what window before he realized that Kenma had spoken.

"Pardon?"

"I don’t have a place to go to" 

_I have nowhere to go._

None of them had it: if they succeeded in leaving that life, where would they go? What would they do? Would they be able to get past what was coming _next_?

"Neither do I" Kenma lazily stretched out his hand, leaning it on the warmest hand of Kuroo.

They remained silent, the arms touching.

Kuroo wanted to stay like this forever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!  
> So, before leaving you to the reading of this chapter I wanted to say a few things: first of all, thank you for all the kudos, it really means a lot to me; secondly, I had so much trouble writing this chapter and I really want to bow to the ones who write really good smut...I never believed that writing smut could be so difficult :( Please, bear with my shitty smut, I really have to improve.

Iwaizumi checked the address written on a wrinkled sheet of paper, taking a look at the house in front of him: the journalist stood in front of the entrance of a huge villa, surrounded by a large garden, protected by a golden gate.

The house was located about fifteen minutes from the center, in a neighbourhood famous for being made up of houses that looked like castles.

_It’s just for the article, nothing else._

_Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes and then you can go._

Hajime snorted, trying to figure out if he was still in time to turn around and run away as fast as possible from that palace and that neighbourhood full of snobby and arrogant billionaires who wore sunglasses more expensive than the entire Iwaizumi's apartment.

If he hadn’t pushed the intercom and run away, no one would have ever noticed.

He would have told his boss that he didn’t care about the promotion, that he didn’t want to deal with Oikawa Tooru anymore.

Yeah, he’d do it like that

"Are you all right?" Hajime winced, slowly turning to the voice behind him.

An excessively tall boy, with an extremely messy mass of black hair and a grin printed on his face, was staring at him, his head slightly inclined and his eyes reduced to two slits.

Iwaizumi hoped that the boy hadn't mistaken him for a maniac or, worse, a thief.

"Oh! Are you the pizza boy?"

_What?_

_"_ Kuroo" a tiny, blond guy, presumably dyed since Hajime could see the chestnut regrowth, appeared from behind the imposing figure of the taller man "You just can’t ask everyone if they are the pizza delivery guy. It's rude" the blond looked up at Iwaizumi, letting his gaze run down the journalist’s face.

Iwaizumi swallowed loudly, feeling uncomfortable: the eyes of the blond were piercing, magnetic, he felt exposed and guilty of something he had not done.

"Ah. Sorry man"

"No problem" Hajime scratched the back of his head, embarrassed "Uhm, I'm here to interview Oikawa-san" the tall guy assumed a confused expression.

"Who?" the journalist thought he had the wrong house and was tempted to check the address again.

"He means Tooru. It was pretty obvious"

"I don’t know, I’m not used to hearing him be called that way" the taller guy raised his hands in his defence.

"So you’re the _extremely attractive journalist_. Oikawa keeps, I swear I can’t take it anymore, talking about you" Iwaizumi felt his face on fire.

"Kuroo". The blond tiredly raised his eyes to the dark-haired man.

"What? I’m just helping?" _help with what?_ "By the way, I'm Kuroo Tetsurou"

"Ah, yes. Nice to meet you. I am Iwaizumi Hajime" the journalist turned his eyes to the other man "And you are?"

"Kozume" the boy answered him without looking up from the electronic device "Kenma"

"Well, shall we go?" Kuroo smirked

If the outside of the house was majestic, the interior was no less: Hajime had never before seen so much marble, crystal and gold friezes in one place, except in the medieval museums he visited as a child with his family during Spring breaks.

Iwaizumi followed Kenma and Tetsurou who, after passing the enormous atrium, which was larger than Iwaizumi's bedroom, led him into a bright room, with two large windows covering the entire height of the room and facing the rear garden.

The room was already equipped and prepared for the photoshoot that would be held shortly; a silver-haired boy was arranging flowers on a fluffy carpet placed in the center of the room while peacefully chatting with what Iwaizumi identified as the photographer, who was intent on controlling the camera.

"Hello!!" Kuroo headed towards them, throwing his jacket on a chair.

"Kuroo. Kenma" the photographer pointed a wide smile to the two men.

"Uh oh, you must be Iwaizumi-san" the dark-hair man shifted his gaze to Iwaizumi

"Just Iwaizumi, please". Hajime felt, for the hundredth time in a few hours, extremely embarrassed.

The silver-haired boy smiled at him, a gentle smile that reassured the journalist.

_There’s nothing I have to worry about, it’s gonna be okay._

"My name is Sugawara Koushi but please call me Suga while he's," said the man as he pointed to the cameraman "Daichi Sawamura, our photographer"

"It's a pleasure to meet you" Iwaizumi made a small bow and, while Kuroo mocked him for being such a _good boy_ , he could not help but wonder where Oikawa was.

"Do we want to get started?" Kenma put the Nintendo in his jacket, glaring at Tetsurou.

"Buzzkill" Kuroo messed up his hair, sliding his arm around Kozume's shoulders 

"Oh, hello Oikawa". Daichi looked up from the camera in his hand and greeted the new guest.

Hajime turned, _just to say hello to the house owner_ , and founded himself completely dazzled at the sight of the model: Oikawa wore a wide, silky, red shirt and a pair of white cigarette pants; he wore a golden chain around his neck, and at his fingers various and shiny rings; his hair had been very carefully styled, each lock seemed to belong to no other place but the one occupied; on the eyelids, a light layer of red eyeshadow had been applied while on the roseate cheeks many small freckles had been drawn and some white glitter had been glued; the lips were glossy, shiny, so tempting...

Iwaizumi was hit by a violent instinct to grab Oikawa and kiss him in front of everyone.

_Are you dumb? You’ve lost your mind and you need to get your shit together._

Tooru replied to the photographer’s greeting with a quick nod of his head, then moved his eyes to the journalist and smiled.

"Oh, Iwa-chan you came" Hajime felt as he was about to explode

"Wait, what? Iwa-chan?" Kuroo laughed, bending in two and holding his stomach with his hands.

Oikawa assumed an offended expression, pouting.

"Iwa-chan likes it "Hajime raised an eyebrow

"I told you that you can call me that, not that I like it" the model opened his mouth and widened his eyes while Kuroo grinned, patting him on the shoulder.

"You have to assert your rights"

"Rights?" Oikawa’s voice was like a snake hissing

"The right not to be called like that" Iwaizumi burst into laughter, earning a cruel look from the model.

"I’m joking Oikawa" Hajime smiled at him

"Can we start, please, so that I can go home?" Kenma slightly pulled the sleeve of Tetsurou’s sweatshirt, trying to hide that gesture with his tiny figure.

Iwaizumi quickly lifted the corners of his mouth.

Cute.

"First, you have to dress properly and have your make-up done" another guy, extremely handsome, with messy black hair and gunmetal blue eyes, popped from behind the figure of Tooru.

It’s illegal that they’re all so beautiful. That's not fair.

"Akaashi-san! You did a really good job with Oikawa". Suga smiled at the newcomer

"This is because I am naturally beautiful" Kuroo chuckled and the model glared at him.

_How old are they, three?_

"Okay, very good, Kenma. Bend your head slightly, please" Iwaizumi watched, sitting slightly aside, the blond man adjust his pose and the photographer continue to give instructions and take pictures.

Hajime was amazed at how a single set of photos could take so much time and effort, he admired how each of the three models had a different style of facing the camera: Kuroo was almost aggressive, a serious and angry expression stamped on his face as if it was a fight between him and the camera; Kenma was shy, placid, passive, he let himself be explored by the lens without putting up any resistance; Oikawa was a continuous playing, flirting, hiding and showing off, with the camera and Iwaizumi couldn't help to feel the desire to see Tooru’s face while he was fucking him, his back arched and his hands grabbing the sheets.

_Jesus Christ._

Hajime was called back to reality by Daichi's voice "Okay everybody, we are going to take the photos in pairs and then we are done. Sounds good?"

Iwaizumi checked the time; it had already been two hours since the photoshoot started but, despite the journalist’s initial decision to leave after thirty minutes, he decided to stay, at least until the models had finished working.

It wouldn’t have been polite to leave in the middle and ruin the atmosphere that had been created, would it?

"Do you want to come closer?" Suga smiled at him, inviting him to approach the set; it was Oikawa and Kuroo’s turn, Hajime felt his ears warm and the silver-haired boy chuckled playfully.

"Okay, come closer, please. Remember to relax your shoulders, especially you Kuroo". Tetsurou nodded, serious in the face, and Iwaizumi could not help but notice how the attitude of the three models was different while working, so formal and professional.

Kuroo laid down on the hairy carpet while Oikawa sat on his lap; Oikawa laid his hands on Tetsurou's shoulders while the latter lifted an arm until he touched with his fingers the lips of the brown-haired man.

Iwaizumi felt deeply, irretrievably, painfully jealous.

_That’s not fair._

Tooru raised his eyes to meet that of the journalist and, as if he had intuited the thoughts of Hajime, his lips lifted to assume the form of a grin.

"Let’s spice it up a bit, okay?" Iwaizumi did not understand with whom the model was talking even though he realized that he didn't care that much at the sight of Oikawa who, without looking away from him, began to unbutton the shirt.

Kuroo grinned, imitating the gesture of the other man, and moving his hand from Tooru’s lips to Tooru’s waist, gently grasping it, creating small wrinkles on the fabric of the shirt.

Oikawa stretched his lips, slipping his shirt down from his shoulders, remaining practically shirtless; Hajime let his eyes run on the other’s candid skin, on the muscles defined but not particularly evident, on the nipples slightly hardened by the change of temperature caused by the opening of the shirt.

_God._

Iwiazumi had to make a gigantic, immense effort to try not to harden his dick or, worse, fuck Oikawa, there, in front of everyone.

_You are so hopeless._

Hajime, in the end, had remained for the entire photoshoot and, on Oikawa’s pleas, even for dinner.

The group had ordered pizza, that they had eaten sitting in a circle on the furry carpet, and beer, too much for only seven people; Iwaizumi felt incredibly light, happy with Oikawa’s head resting on his shoulders and Kuroo’s cheap and dirty jokes in the background.

"Hey, you two, yo! Get a room, there are _children_ here" Kuroo yelled in the direction of Daichi and Suga, who, by the fifth beer, had lost any interest in the conversation and were making out since then.

"Oh my God, you are so boring. Are you jealous?" Suga slightly withdrew from the photographer, his lips swollen and red, just to shoot an annoyed look at Tetsurou, who responded with an amused grin, surrounding Kozume’s waist with his arm.

"Kuroo, can we go home?" Kenma grabbed a piece of the other man's shirt.

"Are you tired?" Kozume nodded, face completely red for the alcohol ingested during the dinner, and Kuroo smiled.

"Folks, I salute you. I’ll see you tomorrow morning" the two of them got up, fingers crossed, and while Kenma was heading towards the atrium, Kuroo turned quickly and made a grimace to Oikawa.

"I saw you" Tetsurou widened his eyes, surprised.

"How the hell did you do it?" Iwaizumi couldn’t help but chuckle.

When Iwaizumi heard the sound of the door closing, Akashi turned to Oikawa with a confused expression oh his face.

"I told him that Kenma is on a level too high for him" Oikawa grinned "And look at them now, almost holding hands"

"Wow, you really are a shitty person". Tooru quickly lifted his head from Hajime’s shoulder

"Hey! You are so mean" he pouted while the journalist chuckled.

"Iwaizumi-san" Akashi turned to him "Did you come here by car?"

"No, I took the train" the journalist checked the hour on his phone, turning white; it was twenty past one, he had spent about ten hours in that house when his initial decision was to leave after only thirty minutes.

And now he didn’t even have a train home. 

_Shit._

_Damn it, Oikawa._

"Why don’t you stay here? Oikawa has a lot of rooms" No, that was out of the question.

Hajime shook his head, embarrassed, checking with the tail of his eye the model's expression.

Suga’s moved away from Daichi, who grumbled at the sudden distance, licking his lips.

"Iwaizumi, do you have an alternative?"

No, he didn’t have it.

"Iwaizumi-san I’d be happy to offer you a lift, but first I have to drive Suga-san and Daichi-san home, and then I have to go to the other side of town. It’s a bit uncomfortable for me" the journalist shook his head, raising his hands to reassure the other; Hajime had no intention of mooching a ride from a person he had just met, he rarely did it with his friends.

"Then it is decided" Oikawa smirked.

The group had been watching television for another hour before Akaashi got up and, saying it was late and dragged the other two with him to the door.

Oikawa had imitated Keiji and, as a good host, had guided the three to the exit.

Hajime had tried to stand up but, feeling his head swirl, he had decided to greet the group from his place on the hairy carpet; Iwaizumi felt incredibly agitated, despite the large amount of alcohol he had ingested: what was he supposed to do when left alone with Oikawa?

_You’re just going to bed, you moron._

_Yes, but-_

_Stop being an idiot, you jackass. Tomorrow you have work. And so does the other one._

The journalist overheard, over the noise of the shooting of the film that they were watching until a few minutes earlier, the loud voice of an extremely drunk Sugawara and the attempts to calm him down by Akaashi and Daichi, the closing of the door and the sound of Oikawa’s footsteps approaching.

"Are you tired?" Iwaizumi nodded, stretching to reach the remote control "I'll show you your room then"

The journalist turned off the TV and then stood up, slowly, trying to fight the dizziness.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I just drank too much"

"Aw, Iwa-chan’s not used to drink much"

"Shut up" Tooru chuckled.

The journalist followed the model through a bunch of corridors that looked like a maze and he, while looking back, wondered if he would be able to find the exit the next day or if Oikawa was, without him noticing, kidnapping him.

"Here we are" Tooru stopped in front of a white door.

Iwaizumi leaned, brushing against the model, and grabbed the handle to the door.

"Do you want to come in?" Hajime felt the urge to punch himself in the face.

What the fuck are you doing, you fucking idiot?! Do you realize you’re voluntarily going to the wolf’s hole?

Oikawa looked at him, confused, before smiling and preceding himself into the room.

The bedroom was clean, tidy, untouched, almost new as if no one had ever used it; Tooru sat down on the bed, lightly clapping the space near him, inviting the journalist to join him.

The bed was soft, the scent of Oikawa fruity, sweet, inebriating; Hajime couldn't tell when Oikawa had stopped talking and started kissing him: the moment before the model was babbling about the moon eclipse of the previous month, and the next one Tooru was astride on his lap, grinding his hips, tongue tangled with his and lips wet of saliva.

Iwaizumi could feel the other’s dick pulsating through his clothes; Oikawa withdrew from his lips just to begin to leave a path of wet kisses on his cheek, down to his jaw, to his neck, biting Hajime’s skin.

Iwaizumi felt his penis harden beneath the jeans and boxers.

"Oikawa" the moan came out unintentionally, Hajime felt the model member harden and rub against his.

"We have to do something for your friend over there". Tooru blew against his neck, sliding a finger on the pulsating bulge.

Oikawa quickly unbuttoned the buttons of his trousers, lowering them just below Iwaizumi’s butt, approaching the underwear wet of precum, grinning; the model began to gently massage Iwaizumi’s cock from over his underwear, alternating the movement of his hands with wet kisses.

"Fuck, Oikawa" the rhythm of the movement grew faster, a smug expression imprinted on the model's face.

"Yes?" Tooru licked Hajime’s member from over his underpants, keeping his eyes locked on the reporter’s red face.

"I need-" Tooru raised an eyebrow, tracing imaginary circles with his finger on the hard and pulsing bulge.

"Yes?" Hajime had his eyes half-opened, his lips swollen, cleft, and his cheeks reddened.

"I want more" Oikawa chuckled and quickly lowered the journalist’s underwear, revealing his rigid cock, dripping of precum.

When the model took his penis in his mouth, Iwaizumi thought he was going to faint: Oikawa’s tongue was hot on his member, swirling around it, the pink lips of the model surrounded his dick perfectly.

Iwaizumi panted, as Tooru bobbed his head up and down 

"Shit, just like that" 

Hajime stretched his arms up to braid his fingers with the curls of the model, tightening them, accompanying Oikawa’s movements, thus dictating the rhythm; Tooru groaned on the journalist’s penis, arching his back.

Iwaizumi felt himself melting, his head empty, light and unable to formulate a shred of rational thought if not the " _I want more_ " that kept flashing in his mind.

"Oikawa" Hajime removed his hands from the hair of the model and placed them on the shoulders of the latter, making a light pressure to make him move away, although he needed a great amount of goodwill, from his turgid member; the model looked at him with a confused expression on his face, his lips wet of saliva and precum.

Iwaizumi leaned toward him to leave him a quick, gentle kiss on the lips, before reversing their positions, quickly; Oikawa flinched.

The dark-haired man took off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the floor, and then lowered himself on the model, leaving a trail of wet kisses on his neck.

"Take your clothes off" Hajime ordered, before focusing his attention on a strip of skin just above the collarbone, sucking and biting it, leaving a visible hickey on the white skin of the model.

"If Iwa-chan wants me to undress he has to move" Tooru chuckled.

Iwaizumi snorted, moving away to allow the other to take off his clothes; Hajime could not help but let his gaze run on the body of the model: the sinuous profile, the candid, soft skin beaded with numerous drops of sweat, glowing in the dim light.

_He's so beautiful._

The journalist leaned towards him to get another quick kiss, before ordering him to turn around.

Tooru turned around, a smug grin on his face, bringing his torso as close as possible to the mattress, lifting his hips in the air, near Iwaizumi’s face.

Hajime was surprised for a moment, red in the face.

"Does Iwa-chan not like it?". Oikawa began to draw imaginary circles with his hips, watching from behind his shoulder the journalist’s expression.

_Okay, that’s enough._

Hajime grabbed the model’s thighs and pushed them away from each other, as much as possible, until a slight rumble left Oikawa’s lips.

"You are a horny little thing, you know that?" Iwaizumi leaned down towards Tooru’s hole, teasing him with a series of wet kisses that made the model groan.

"Ah, Iwa-chan" Oikawa gasped when the journalist caressed his opening with his tongue.

"Be patient" Hajime whispered, before sliding his tongue in Oikawa's hole, grabbing the model’s hips, bringing him closer to him.

Oikawa heard Iwaizumi grab his cheeks, distancing them, and begin sliding his tongue inside his opening at an increasingly sustained pace, making him arch his back and curl his toes.

"God…". Tooru felt his legs tremble and his hips began to move unintentionally on the journalist’s tongue.

"Oikawa, you are so tight" Iwiazumi blew on the opening of the model, making him shudder; Tooru threw a begging look from behind the journalist who, hearing the eyes of the other on himself, chuckled.

"What is it?"

"Please…" the model squeezed the sheet, now completely wrinkled, under him.

"Please, what?" Hajime Hignò, without looking down from the model’s.

"Please, just fuck me"

_Okay, don’t fuck it up. You better not._

Oikawa squinted, diving his head into the sheet.

How long have we been doing this? Two hours? Three? Five.

You’re overreacting, you know that?

Hajime was pounding him at a sustained pace, with intensity, deeply, and Tooru felt his mind getting dimmer at each push, his turgid, hard, penis, throbbing of precum.

"You are so fucking tight" Hajime whispered to Oikawa’s ear, licking it while reaching towards the face of the model, slipping two fingers into the other man's mouth; Tooru moaned, arching his back more, before sucking the journalist’s fingers, wetting them with his saliva.

Iwaizumi gasped for air.

"Yes, right there. Yesyesyes" Tooru felt the journalist’s penis grow inside him and Hajime’s pushes become more rhythmic, going deeper and deeper, reaching Oikawa's prostate.

Iwaizumi freed the model’s mouth from his fingers and, the saliva-kneaded hand, reached the cock of the man below him, starting to move his hand around Oikawa’s cock; Tooru rolled his eyes at the back of his head.

"You feel so good" Iwaizumi whispered and Oikawa, back arched, lips and chin wet with saliva, blushed.

Iwa-chan, I think I’m going to cum". the model felt his legs give out, his whole body stiffened and trembled.

Hajime felt Tooru tightening around his member.

Iwaizumi felt a strong warm wave clouding his sight; he squinted his eyes, letting himself be overwhelmed by the orgasm, while the model gasped and trembled under him, his back glistening with sweat.

The journalist remained for a few more seconds inside the other man, enjoying the feeling of fullness and contentment that had him, before slowly slipping out of him; Oikawa grumbled at the movement.

"We should do it again, you know?" Tooru chuckled, before slowly picking up his clothes and approaching the door.

“Yeah, we should do it again”

_You are so fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you arrived at this point, I really want to thank you <3
> 
> Next time we'll have:  
> 1) AnGsTy PaSt  
> 2) DAISUGA!!!  
> 3) a hopeless Iwaizumi
> 
> Kudos and comments make the author happy!   
> See you next time, stay safe and healthy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello!  
> So, I've to admit that I enjoyed writing this chapter and I really hope that you guys will like it <3  
> By the way, since one of my favourite things is creating playlists on Spotify, I've made an iwaoi playlist and I'll leave the link if some of you are interested 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5M44e0s2X5WoQPJQl6gDaO?si=YmftIIh1Tt2FgW9VzocJWA

Hajime felt incredibly uncomfortable, the neck sweating, the palms damp and the annoying itching on his thighs, in the silence of his boss' office, silence marked only by the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall.

"Mh" the boss grumbled, re-reading, for what was to be the thousandth time, the article written by Iwaizumi.

"Is something wrong?" the voice of the journalist barely came out, creaking like the floor of an old house.

"Mh" The man leaned on the back of the chair, without giving an answer that could be defined as such.

_Oh, c’mon. I don’t really have the whole day, you know?_

_Um, you do._

_Oh, shut it._

"It’s a good article" the chief sentenced after a few minutes of silence.

Iwaizumi assumed an exaggeratedly confused expression; if there was one thing he was good at, that was being a journalist and, regardless of the nature of the article, he always made sure to deliver to the editors a clear, straight to the point, flowing piece that didn’t need any corrections or improvements.

It was very rare for anyone to complain about what he wrote.

"It’s a really good article" the boss smiled, aware of having to explain himself to his best journalist "But it's not down to the audience. You see, up until now you’ve been writing, how did you define them? , more politically and socially active articles, you were more focused on cases that satisfy the most committed readers and fascinate the others. Oikawa Tooru is an emerging star" the boss paused "He’s an extremely popular model, on everyone’s mouth, the audience is hungry for news and wants more" Hajime nodded, understanding what the other man was trying to say.

"What can I do to improve?" The boss smiled, pleased with the constant desire to do more, to improve, to shine, that made Iwaizumi the best journalist he had ever hired.

"This article is complete, I don’t think you can add much, but you have to write me another piece on Oikawa Tooru" the boss slid a blue plastic folder towards him "If it’s any consolation, we’ve received an invitation from Oikawa-kun's company to attend a fashion show in which he will also participate" Iwaizumi nodded, not knowing how to react, "Oikawa-Kun asked for you. He must like you" the boss chuckled to redness on the journalist’s cheeks.

"Ah, yes" Hajime felt incredibly guilty for not contacting Tooru in the week after their last meeting, and surprisingly happy to see the model again.

"Well, it's all decided then" the man smiled at him, thus concluding the brief conference; when he already had a leg out of the chief's office, the elder called him.

"Yes sir?"

"Why don’t you ask him a few questions about his past?"

"Well, if the agency didn't give us information about it, won't there be a reason? It could damage Oikawa's company"

"Remember what your job is, after all"

He didn’t like that story.

He didn’t like it at all.

Iwaizumi knew that the superior, after all, was right: he was a journalist and his job was to investigate the most uncomfortable truths, the naked and raw reality, without caring too much if his words could ruin companies or people and reward others.

But…

But that time it was different, and, Hajime would rather punch himself in the face than admit it openly, the reason had a pair of deep and warm brown eyes, glossy pink lips that tasted like sugar, and chestnut curly hair that could easily be described as perfect, as well as incredibly scented.

Iwaizumi glanced at the post-it, attached to his computer, on which the name of Oikawa Tooru and his cell phone number flashed in the center, black ink on canary yellow paper, written with elegant and slightly inclined calligraphy.

It had now been a week since the journalist had attended the photoshoot at the model’s home, a week without Hajime contacting Oikawa, despite the many recommendations of Tooru when he slipped the post-it into the pocket of his jacket and his embarrassed eyes when he asked him to text him.

Hajime felt an uncomfortable sting at the height of his chest and a massive wave of guilt drowning him, taking his breath away.

_Ah, fuck it._

The journalist pulled his cell phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, annoyed and irritated by his weirdly docile attitude, registering the model number between the contacts.

_Should I call him?_

_No, are you dumb? Your voice on the phone is grotesque, you might scare him._

_But it is not that scary…_

_Yeah, it is. Do you remember what Bokuto told you?_

_There’s no need to-_

_"But, you know, if I hadn’t called you, I would never have recognized you. You’re almost scary."_

_But I was sleeping when he called, and Bokuto was joking._

_Who knows..._

_All right, all right. I’ll text him._

Iwaizumi found himself writing, deleting and rewriting the message a dozen times, looking for the most suitable words to use, friendly but not too warm, without wanting to be rude but not even particularly sorry for the time he had let pass before contacting the model.

Hajime felt agitated like a high-school girl at her first crush, the slippery palms of his hands and the incessant beating of his heart; only after ten minutes spent watching with anxious eyes the message he had written, Iwaizumi finally was decided to press send.

**To Oikawa Tooru:** I’m sorry I didn’t contact you earlier, I’m Iwaizumi Hajime. I wanted to ask if we could meet.

_That sounds so weird._

The journalist did not have to wait long before the screen of his cell phone lit up with a ring.

**From Oikawa Tooru:** Iwa-can! 〜〜(／￣▽)／It really took you a century to write to me, I didn’t think it would take a whole week

**From Oikawa Tooru:** To what do I owe this sudden interest? Iwa-chan is not thinking of seducing me? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_

Iwaizumi could not help but curl his lips in a smile, imagining Oikawa’s voice laughing at him, his head slightly inclined and a teasing smirk imprinted on his face.

**To Oikawa Tooru:** Oh shut up, Shittykawa!

**From Oikawa Tooru:** Geh! Rude!

**From Oikawa Tooru:** And what the hell is that insult? That’s so lame…

**To Oikawa Tooru:** I swear if you don’t stop I’ll kick you next time I see you.

**From Oikawa Tooru:** Oh? Next time? Does that mean Iwa-can wants to see me?

**To Oikawa Tooru:** I wanted to talk to you about this…

Hajime pressed on the intercom button, cursing himself for the umpteenth time since the beginning of the morning: after the journalist had explained to the model why he needed to see him, the reason was not about getting Oikawa to have sex with him, Iwaizumi had spent at least an hour discussing where to have the interview; Iwaizumi had opted for a cafe, a park bench or, generally, a public place where his impulses towards the model could be contained, while Oikawa had insisted, and won, on meeting at his house, so they could talk without getting interrupted by anyone.

A click, the sound of the door opening, and a chuckle snatched Hajime from his thoughts.

Iwa-chan tends to be dazzled every time we meet. Are you thinking about me?" The model was leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed, a pair of glasses resting on the nose.

Why the fuck he has to look like that all the time.

"Shut up". Hajime shook his head, trying to hide the smile that did not want to abandon his face.

"Do you want to stay there or do you want to come in?"

"I'm coming in"

Oikawa smiled.

The house, the castle, was much quieter than what Iwaizumi remembered, the noise of his steps spread placidly inside the rooms.

"Are you alone?" the journalist put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, wondering why that question came out so weird.

"Yes, I am" Oikawa smiled, quickly, and Iwaizumi thought that that was the first time he had seen such a sad smile on Oikawa’s face.

The silence felt between the two men, an invisible and annoying trace that blocked Hajime from asking other questions that might be uncomfortable for Oikawa.

Tooru turned in the room with the hairy carpet and then proceeded towards the kitchen and out into the garden, a green lawn bordered by many white lilies, through a glazed door.

"Do you want coffee? Iwaizumi nodded, "Sit down then, I’ll be back soon" the model pointed one of the two wooden swings, divided by a small round table, facing the outside of the garden, in the shade of a tree, before disappearing beyond the door; Hajime felt him tinkering with the kettle, the tinkling of the ceramic cups, a thin humming while the water warmed.

Iwaizumi let himself swing with the gentle movement of the chair, closing his eyes, waiting for Oikawa to return with coffee, the breeze that caressed his face and the sunlight that filtered through the leaves of the tree on his eyelashes; it was long since Hajime felt so at peace, at ease.

"Here it is" the journalist opened his eyes, turned his head and stretched his arm to take the cup full of steaming coffee that the model was handing him, the hot ceramic warmed his fingertips.

"Thank you very much" Hajime bent over to take a sip from for coffee, slightly burning his tongue, surprised by the strong, bitter taste, just as he liked.

Oikawa sat on the other swing, leaning on his cup, he drank a coffee with a sweeter perfume and a lighter colour, on the coffee table; he smiled, a wide, honest and an embarrassed smile, a smile that seemed to illuminate the face of the man and the entire garden.

It’s not fair that he's this beautiful.

"So, Iwa-cha, what do we want to talk about?" the journalist took out from the pocket of the jacket the same penalty ball and notebook of their first meeting

"I’d like to ask you a few questions about the fashion show that will be held soon" the model crosses his legs "How do you generally prepare for events like this?"

While the other man was speaking, one of the first things Hajime noticed was that Oikawa gesticulated, moving his hands like a maniac. Politicians, policemen, citizens who he usually interviewed always wore serious expressions and tried to stay still, motionless, as if they could be accused of being guilty if they had moved; Oikawa didn't: he was moving his hands from one point to another, quickly and frantically, laughing, making funny expressions, telling anecdotes and often interrupting himself with jokes that had the sole purpose of making the journalist blush.

The second thing Iwaizumi noticed was Oikawa's tic of curling a strand of hair: the slightly inclined head, his fingers playing with the brown curls, the bright smile on the face, a smile that fit him so well that it was almost an injustice that the model didn’t wear it more often.

Hajime, while Oikawa was speaking and he was taking notes, noticed an infinity of other things: the way Tooru’s fingers held the ceramic cup as if it were to fall from one moment to the next, or the man’s habit of looking up to the sky, the eyes exploring the infinite blue expanse as if they were looking for something, or the way he used to bite his lower lip when he was thinking.

There was something in Oikawa Tooru that was incredibly, painfully and inexplicably sad, something that made Iwaizumi wish he could stop writing, stand up and surround the other man in a hug that would wipe out that strange veil of sadness.

"Can I ask you one or two more questions?" the model nodded, sipping the coffee, inviting the journalist to continue "Could you tell me about your life before becoming a model?"

The smile of Oikawa had a quiver, imperceptible and fast, that Iwaizumi managed to perceive just before the model replaced that honest and bright smile with the fake and built one that he usually wore.

"There’s not much to tell, Kuroo and I got bored and decided-"

"I mean what happened before" Tooru’s mask seemed to crack, Hajime could almost see coloured crumbs falling from the model’s face as if he was crumbling like a carnival mask.

"What do you mean?" the journalist knew that he had to stop, that it was none of his business, that Oikawa did not want to talk about his past, but he couldn't soothe the hungry desire to see the real Oikawa Tooru, to understand him, to comfort him, to speak to him without the fear that his words could bounce on an empty shell, to remove that mask from his face and let his skin breathe.

"Why don’t you have news about your family? Or your childhood?"

The journalist froze: a tear, silent and thin, slipped along the rosy cheek of the model.

_Shit._

And then another one, and another one, until Tooru’s cheeks were completely wet and the model was sobbing.

_You’re a fucking asshole._

Iwaizumi rushed to the man, trying to comfort him as best he could, patting his head

He's not a dog, you know that?

Hajime snorted inwardly, replacing the pats with delicate caresses, running his fingers between the brown curls of the other man.

"I shouldn’t have asked you that question, I was wrong" the journalist found himself thinking that Oikawa’s hair was incredibly soft, silky "I didn’t want to make you feel bad, it wasn’t my intention" he paused "Maybe I should go, now"

Iwaizumi felt Tooru's wet eyes gazing on his face, the fingers of the other man reaching his hand and a feeble "Iwa-chan, please do not" leaving the pink lips of Oikawa "Please"

"It wasn’t right of me to ask you that question and I don’t want you to feel obligated to talk about something that makes you feel uncomfortable" he said. 

Oikawa had his cheeks streaked with dry tears and his eyes slightly swollen.

"Your question caught me off guard, I have to admit, and maybe I overacted, but the truth is that I need to talk about it" Tooru looked down, chewing his lower lip.

"I’m happy to listen, but I don’t want it to be too difficult for you. If you don’t feel like it anymore, you stop. Okay?" Hajime slid his hand from the model’s hair to the latter’s chin, brushing it with his thumb and making a slight pressure so that Oikawa lifted his head and looked him in the eye.

Oikawa smiled, almost imperceptibly, and Iwaizumi felt his stomach spinning. 

Oikawa told him everything, he told him his past, starting from the beginning, in a story that took, in the journalist’s mind, the shape of a winding path, uphill: the model described him the city where he was born, in the prefecture of Miyagi, he described him his neighborhood, the park with cherry trees that, when in bloom, painted the area with a pleasant and delicate shade of pink, his two-floors house and he told him about his room, with luminescent stars sticking to the ceiling, the plans on the windowsill, the photos of him and his friends hanging on the walls, the books of astronomy, Greek mythology and haiku that filled the library, the quotes that he wrote on sheets of blue paper and attached to the wall; he told him about his dreams, how he wanted to leave his mark, how he wanted to be an inspiration; he told him about his family, his mother, a good, sweet woman, who showed affection with gestures, bringing him breakfast in bed on Sundays and kissing his forehead after he got home, and he told him about his father, a noisy and cheery man with a broad smile and a contagious laughter, and he told him about his sister, how he was extremely attached to her, how she listened to him, in silence, and how she supported him, how she pushed him to reach his dreams, to love, to live; he told him about the accident in the car, that Friday evening, about the blood that had wet the road and the cracked head of his sister, about the vitreous eyes and the mouth wide open in a scream that would never find a way to escape; he told him about the funeral, held two days later, the black wooden coffin, the white lilies in the vases of the church, about the shirt glued to his sweaty back; he described the silence which closed his family in a bubble, isolating Tooru from his parents, his father's audeltery, the tears and sobs of his mother and the nightmares that began to visit him every night; and he told him about that evening when his father came home drunk, and about the shouting and the slapping and the kicking and the punching, and the knife that shone in his father’s hand, and the blood that spattered out of his mother’s thin body, as if it was something explosive; he told him about the neighbors who called the ambulance and the running to the hospital and the death of his mother in the operating room; he told him that he was selfish, that he wanted his own happiness and he told him about Kuroo who, putting his hand on his shoulder, told him that he wasn't greedy to seek his own happiness and that he had promised to follow him to the ends of the world, if necessary, because he, after all, wanted nothing more than to see him happy.

When, finally, Oikawa finished his story, both were crying, Tooru submerged by melancholy and guilt, Iwaizumi overwhelmed by the sadness in Tooru's voice, by intense the feeling of emptiness and loneliness mixed with his words.

Hajime stretched out towards the other man, surrounding his shoulders in a hug that cut off Oikawa’s breath, making him feel protected and at home.

"I am so sorry" those were meaningless and silly words that would have annoyed the model in another situation but Oikawa couldn't help but feel warm and grateful.

Iwaizumi bowed his head, diving his nose between Tooru’s curls and inhaling its fruity scent.

Oikawa hadn't felt happy in a long time.

Daichi was _in love_.

Getting to the awareness of feeling for a certain silver-haired colleague of his had been the easiest part: Sawamura, since childhood, had always been honest with his emotions, feelings and himself and, although somewhat embarrassed, it wasn’t hard for him to admit that he liked Sugawara, his porcelain skin, his honey-coloured eyes, the mole on his cheek and the gentle smile.

Trying to get noticed and understand if the other man also felt something for him had been much more difficult, mainly because Daichi began to find problems in formulating a rational and logical speech in the presence of the other man.

When, however, Daichi found Koushi’s lips pressed on his, the hands of the other man leaning on his shoulders, the photographer found himself thinking how all those doubts and insecurities of the past days seemed completely insignificant.

"I owe Oikawa a coffee" Suga muttered when the two parted, weaving their hands together "We bet you never would have taken the first step"

Daichi widens his eyes and opened his mouth to say something in his defence, that he was shy or that the other man had simply beat him on time, to then close it, without uttering a word.

_Who are you kidding?_

Sugawara burst into laughter, a tinkling crystal waterfall.

"You’re cute". he said, squeezing his hand, slight redness on his cheeks.

From that afternoon, the two had started spending more and more time together, going to the cinema on Tuesday nights, buying ice cream on the way home, sleeping together, braided legs, in the same futon, having sex and falling asleep embraced immediately after.

It was one morning, the light that filtered from the curtains which danced on the silvery lashes of Koushi, the warm and lazy atmosphere of early morning, the naked body of the other man close to his, that Daichi realized to be deeply, irretrievably in love with Sugawara Koushi.

The"I love you" slipped out of the photographer’s lips, fluttered in the air, suspended over the still their sleepy bodies.

Koushi moved, curling close to Daichi’s body, hiding his head in the other man’s chest; Sawamura was able to feel the smile of his lover on his chest.

"I love you too Daichi". the photographer felt his heart flutter.

That day, the two did not do much else but stay curled, close, the time marked by kisses that had the taste of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've a few things to say:
> 
> 1)Since I'm Italian, I gesticulate A.LOT and people, especially when I go abroad, always tell me that's pretty distracting...so I thought it could be pretty funny to see a smol oikiwi gesticulating as much as I do.  
> 2) Iwaizumi's internal monologue about the sound of his voice through the phone is based on my personal experience lmao  
> 3)I just believe that besides being an astrology nerd, Oikawa is also into greek mythology and haiku ("a haiku is a form of poetry, first made popular in Japan. Haiku poets are challenged to convey a vivid message in only 17 syllables" from Wikipedia) and I, while describing his room, really want to give off the soft boy vibes
> 
> So, next time we'll have:  
> 1) ledws things  
> 2) fashion show+Kags+Ushijima  
> 3)that piece of shit of Oikawa's chief


End file.
